I'll Look After You
by Greys-Shepherdess
Summary: Excerpts taken from the Fray's "Look After You." Amezona.


_If I don't say this now, I will surely break._

She looks beautiful tonight. She does every night, of course, and every moment of every day, for that matter. But there is something special about the way she looks tonight, the way her eyes sparkle, the rosiness in her cheeks.

She's wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear, her face free of any makeup and her hair pulled up loosely into a messy bun. Her prosthetic is propped up against the side of the couch, her legs tucked under a blanket. I find myself mesmerized by the mere sight of her, and I fight the urge to reach out and brush a loose strand of soft blonde hair behind her ear.

I've felt this way for a while, since about a week after she'd let me move in with her. I had shown up at her house, crying and unsure of where else to go, the night Owen answered his door drunk. We quickly grew closer, a _lot_ closer in my case, and there are often times when I find myself unable to take my eyes off of her. Like right now.

"I can feel you staring."

Her sly tone is accompanied by a smirk.

I let out a sigh, my eyes still trained on her face, and I want to smack myself for not looking away. I _can't_ look away.

"What's up with you?" she asks, her voice softer this time as she lets out a quiet chuckle. That sweet tone she uses makes my heart beat fast.

"I just, um, well... um..."

I let out a breath. I can feel my entire body flush in embarrassment, and I'm sure my cheeks are bright red as she looks at me with an amused expression on her face. She bites her lip, holding back a smirk, a chuckle threatening to escape her lips.

I sigh again. _Oh, for God's sake, Shepherd. Pull it together._

She notices my silent frustration, and she smiles at me, sweetly, just like everything else she does. It makes my pulse start to race again, and I find myself wanting to cry at just how incredibly, overwhelmingly, heart-shatteringly _beautiful_ she is.

So I just _have_ to say it, before I explode.

"I think you're beautiful." It comes out as a whisper, and I quickly avert my gaze. "That's all."

She stays quiet for a while, and the silence makes me nervous. I open my mouth again to apologize, but my breath catches in my throat when I feel her soft lips press gently against my cheek.

And it makes my heart soar.

* * *

 _Will you, won't you, be the one I'll always know?_

"I didn't know you could cook," I grin as I enter the kitchen.

I hang my jacket off the back of a chair and kick off my shoes as I make my way over to the stove.

She's wearing my favorite hoodie and a pair of cotton shorts, and I feel my heart melt inside my chest at how goddamn _cute_ she is. I love it when she takes my clothes. It's endearing and familiar and it makes me fall for her even more.

I stand next to her and slide an arm around her waist, making her giggle that _adorable_ giggle I love. It makes me smile.

"What's this?" I ask, nodding towards the food she's making.

"Pasta primavera," she says, with this proud look on her face.

I smile again.

"This looks amazing, Arizona."

She grins and lifts a spoonful up to my lips for me to taste.

"Oh my God," I mumble, my mouth still full. "Where'd you learn to cook like this?"

She beams at me.

"When Sofia was a baby, Mark and I went through this phase. We'd cook something new together every day. It was basically how we bonded."

My heart aches a bit at the mention of Mark.

"That's really sweet," I smile, somewhat sadly.

She notices this, and she returns my sad smile.

"I miss him."

I slide both my arms around her waist, pulling her into me. She returns the hug, her arms wrapping around my neck. I close my eyes, enjoying the proximity, and it hurts that she doesn't know how she makes me feel. But mostly, it hurts that she's hurting, so I rub my hand across her back.

"I always forget you knew him, too. I mean, I know he's Sofia's father, obviously, but still. It's easy to forget."

My words are muffled against her shoulder.

I gently pull out of the embrace and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. It's tender, and intimate, _too_ intimate for friends, so I quickly pull my hand back.

"You should talk about him more," I tell her. "I want to hear more stories. I'm sure you have a lot of them. Plus, I just want to know more about you."

She smiles wide at that.

She yanks me closer again and rests her hands on my waist.

"I want to know more about you, too. I want to know everything about you."

* * *

 _When I'm losing my control, the city spins around / You're the only one who knows, you slow it down._

"Amelia?"

I hear her voice call my name from down the hall, but I feel too numb to respond. I know she'll find me soon, anyway.

I'm curled up in her bed, tucked under the sheets. It smells like her here, and it comforts me, especially in moments like these. I hear her footsteps stop at my bedroom, still a few doors away.

"Amelia?" she calls again, and I can tell she's confused when she finds my room empty. I hope she doesn't question why I chose to hide in her room instead.

Her footsteps become louder as she nears her bedroom, and she stops in the doorway when she sees me.

She lets out a sigh. She can tell I've been crying, and I know she knows I'm not okay.

"Oh, sweetie," she whispers, her voice filled with heartbreak.

She slips off her shoes and shrugs off her jacket before making her way over to the bed. Wordlessly, she slips in beside me and scoots closer, before gently pulling me into her arms.

She lets me wrap my arms tightly around her torso and nestle my face in the crook of her neck.

It's the anniversary of Derek's death, and she knows how I feel. As I learned more about her, I learned of her brother, Timothy. I learned of how she mourned his death, and how she knows how I feel, because she been here before. She knows.

I pull myself closer to her, seeking refuge in her arms. She's warm and soft, her scent comforting. I feel her run her fingers through my hair, and I close my eyes at the feeling. My head stops pounding, and my world begins to feel calmer. I feel safe with her.

My breathing begins to slow, and I start to relax when I hear her softly whisper to me.

"I know, sweetie, I know." I feel her nails soothingly scratch my scalp. "I've got you."

* * *

 _It's always have and never hold / You've begun to feel like home._

I wake up before she does, and for the first time in my life, the first thing I do is smile. She knew how much I was hurting, so she'd stayed with me all night. She'd let me fall asleep against her.

The feeling of her warm body snug against mine is my favorite feeling.

I hold my breath as she begins to stir, and I watch in admiration as her eyelids flutter.

"Mm," she mumbles softly in the most endearing way, and I let out a breath as she opens her eyes.

Suddenly I feel nervous. Nervous at how she'll react to me being this close to her, at how I noticeably can't take my eyes off of her.

I hold my breath again, the momentary silence making my heart speed up.

"Hi," I murmur shyly.

She beams at me, letting out a giggle. She reaches out to gently stroke my hair.

"Hi," she whispers back. "How are you feeling?"

I snuggle into her.

"Better," I say. "A lot better. Thank you."

She runs her fingers through my hair again, and I sigh at the feeling.

"Anytime."

I gaze up at her, biting my bottom lip, and I can't stop myself from leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.

I feel her tighten her arms around me, and I smile as I'm pulled closer to her.

She feels like home.


End file.
